Familiar Taste of Poison
by Ana Behibak
Summary: ACTUAL STORY PEOPLE. Finally a first chapter. Case will come later. Rating may change for some fluff later on. I am FULLY AWARE that only 24 men out of the USCG and the USN/USNR are chosen for SEAL/CRT. With Vega, it's only a reference to who she is


Steve wasn't that serious when he kept contact with those he met in the Navy. Sure, he knew a lot of people from being in the reserves, but he liked to keep his family and friends close. He only referred to people he knew when the time came and he needed to rely on them, but at the moment, he had to call upon an old friend of his. He hadn't seen her since she deployed and for some reason, she stayed away, but then again, she didn't feel like risking things half the time.

Commander Vega 'Eagle' Moreau, the old school, female SEAL of the Navy was well known, maybe too much. She was featured in the paper for the medals she's won and the things she's done that would seem stupid but have saved the lives of her mates. She's provided air cover for the SEALs and has flown them in on helicopter, but he definitely remembered the times she's danced across the runways and made fun of airdales behind their backs. Vega was a character of the Navy, having the lazy attitude of an officer but the determination and super human quality of hanging out with SEALs too much. Steve, even as a SEAL, trusted her deeply with his life. It wasn't because of who she was in the Navy, but who she was as a person, quiet and naïve when it came to being wounded. Even though she was in the aviation unit (she flies the last F-14D Tomcat ever made, considering her skills and the fact that she begged for them to keep it), she has been called for ground operations and was involved in a lot of firefight. Outside of the Navy, which defined her, Vega didn't work (as she makes a career out of the Navy) and lived in Honolulu, flying her own Super Cub and boating.

When Steve first met her, Moreau was just coming back from deploying on the Enterprise and came to congratulate the graduating SEALs. She was wearing her dress blues, medals bared across her left breast, her hat perched straight on her tightly pulled back ash grey and dark auburn locks. He stood straight and tall in her presence, shaking her hand once, recording the feeling of her yoke calloused hand in his mind. Her grey eyes were bright, but held back all emotions she's ever felt in her life, a true sailor. Vega was brutal to those who disrespected her, but generally ignored those who did, used to it and didn't really give a damn. The only person who ever got really close to her was her copilot, Captain Brent O'Reilly, who kept her from going Rambo for too long. He cared for her a lot when she injured herself a lot from doing things inside a cockpit that can't be done in any other way, or when she was flying over the Iraqi desert and antiaircraft guns shot up through the bottom of the Tomcat and went through her heel and out her knee. It kept her going, though, to know that the pain was only a reminder of what she was doing and that she was doing it well because there were people shooting at her. Vega was the face of the Tomcat squadron, the Tomcatters (VF-31), and kept the same Tomcat she had, the notorious tailfin design devastating every country to displayed her air superiority on. After the Tomcatters disbanded on the day the Tomcat was decommissioned (September 22, 2006), Vega begged and got her wish and was allowed to take her pick of the Tomcat she wanted. The first Tomcat she flew was with the commander of the Grim Reapers (VF-101), so she inherited his kitty and painted it black and silver, the colors that are now used for the squadron she commands. Being the only F-14 pilot in her squadron of F/A-18 Hornets and Super Hornets, they were nicknamed the Stingin' Cats, much like the squadron Pukin' Dogs (VF-143).

Steve searched through his contacts until he happened upon her name, dialing her cell and holding it up to his ear.

"_United States Naval base Pearl Harbor, Honolulu, Hawaii, Hickham airbase. Moreau speaking." _Steve knew all too well that she answered her phone like that whenever he was calling. Her husky voice was faint with breathing heavy, which, knowing her daily routine on the base, meant that she was jogging the runways for exercise.

"You got time?"

"_No, no. I totally don't have time to jog the runways."_

"Way to be mean. I'm coming down in five."

"_You call yourself a SEAL? Make that two."_

"Aren't you spectacular this morning."

"_I didn't have the best of wakeups this morning."_

"Want me to fix that for you?"

"_Super SEAL, I don't have time for your rounds of romance. Get your pathetic ass down here or I'm taking off and you'll have to play the game again and attempt to win a few hours later."_

"That's the longest continuous speech I've ever heard from you. Whoa. Ma'am, yes, ma'am."

And Vega hung up on him. Oh, Steven knew it was going to be a good day today.

Danny scribbled across his rough drafts of a case report, sighing and leaning his cheek on his hand. The picture of his ex-wife and Grace made him smile, which gave him the only reason to keep writing this report that bored him to death.

"Hey. We're going for ride."

Danny jumped at the sudden voice of McGarrett, glowering at his comrade while he sat there. "The only way you're making me go is if I drive." Williams folded his arms across his chest, blue eyes staring stubbornly at the ex-SEAL.

"You don't know where I'm going."

"Exactly!"

"So I'm driving, and you're coming along." With that, Steve walked away, his boots thumping on the tile floor. After a little bit, he walked back, leaning back in the doorway of the office. "C'mon." Danny sighed and stood up, reluctantly following McGarrett to the silver Camaro.

"So what god forsaken place are you dragging me to now?"

"Hickham airbase."

"Could've said that."

"Didn't feel like it."

"If you did, I would've been able to drive my own damn car."

"Exactly."

"…" Danny sighed and decided to not ask questions, staring out the windshield as Steve once again drove his car.

The heat that radiated off of the planes didn't affect the lady that relaxed against the wheel of the Tomcat, shade covering her whole body underneath the bulk of the jet's sweep wing. Vega yawned and attempted to open her eyes, fixing her aviators, the glare coming from the glass of the cockpits blinding her. The comforting sounds of engines blasting filled up the general silence of the air force base, but Moreau longed for voices and actual company. Her plane was good company, she loved the thing to death and cared for it like it was her own child (albeit it freaks her mates out), but it didn't talk. So human company was nice, too. She wished Brent was around so she could pick on him and let him gush out his guts with worry over her. But alas, the man was off doing something.

"Vega!" Moreau looked up at her name, arching an eyebrow as a tall and short figure came towards her across the fields. She stood up and took the last sip of her Canada Dry ale, stretching and fixing her cammies. She looked down at herself and realized that her uniform top was entirely unbuttoned, her boobs popping out from her apparently exaggerating tank top (she didn't realize she bought that). Vega pondered for a moment then decided to leave it, feeling lazy enough to only button up a few. Her grey eyes blinked harshly as Steve came to a stop before her, causing her to look up. She nodded casually then looked down at the other man, snorting.

"What's this, your girlfriend?"

"You're funny."

"I'm here all night."

Steve saluted her sarcastically and watched her smirk with growing satisfaction. He loved entertaining her because it got something out of her otherwise neutral expression. "What do you need, a whore to keep you busy for a week? I'm sure you get plenty of those every night."

"I don't know what you've got against me at the moment, I just need your opinion on something."

"Well, I don't know if you even want mine."

"You're better than most."

"Then come with me and we'll talk inside. Your girlfriend looks like she's dying of heat stroke because of that tie."

Danny automatically didn't like this friend of Steve's. Enough said.

**Thanks for waiting excruciatingly painfully long for this. o.O I've given complicated stuff about the Tomcats so to give simple english, VF-101 or whatever is the number of the squadron.**

**Eh.**

**Yeah. Been under a lot of stress lately with relationships and what not. So enjoy :3**

**Mikayla**


End file.
